


A Fearful Man

by Theverticaldreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Dean, Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Cas loves Dean, Chronic Illness, Dark Dean Winchester, Dean Loves Cas, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean visits a priest, Guilt, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mpreg, Possessive Dean Winchester, Sick Castiel, So much angst, a little too much, and confesses, but he's trying to get better, castiel novak - Freeform, omega cas, profound guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:08:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theverticaldreamer/pseuds/Theverticaldreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester lives for his mate, Castiel. After Cas is diagnosed with a chronic illness, Dean battles his own warped desires against what he knows is right. He visits a priest one night to confess to his sins before heading home. It's not long before things start to crumble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fearful Man

Dean had been sitting in his car for fifteen minutes trying to work up the courage to walk into the church.

It was an old, white building with a large tower at the front, but Dean noted the way the evening light turned the white paint on the wooden slats grey, how the long shadows cast on the lawn seemed to eat up all the colour. 

The whole building looked like it was fading away. 

He started to fidget, fingers drumming a tuneless beat against the steering wheel and eyes flicking from the church doors to the dashboard, to the street, to a lamp that hadn’t come on yet, then back to the doors.

He couldn’t go in. He had to go in.

Dean took out his phone and checked the time. It was 7.22PM, and he’d already been away from Cas for hours. It would take another hour and a half to drive back home. He had to do this now, had to get back to his Omega. 

He opened the door with a jittery hand, then he left the car and all but ran to the church.

Like the rest of the place, the double doors were old, their chipped white surfaces covered in fliers.

‘Welcome,’ they said. ‘The Lord Loves You,’ they said.

‘Come and rest in the House of God.'

Shuddering, Dean pushed the left door open and stepped inside.

In contrast to the wanness of its outside, the church’s interior was dark. There were deep, cherry oak frames and benches, red velvet curtains and pillows that were faded and eaten into in places. Every surface was cast in a kaleidoscope of colours from the stain glass windows. It made him feel nostalgic yet uneasy.

The best part of all, thought Dean, was that nobody was there. Walking into churches, hospitals and libraries could be a real assault on the senses, and Dean usually avoided them at all costs. Now, his Alpha senses could pick up whiffs of people who’d been there that day. A grateful Beta, a terrified Alpha, a heartbroken Omega. There was one fresh Beta scent in the whole place, who smelt a little bored if anything. Dean knew that he must be the priest, and knew that he must be able to smell the distress he was rolling in waves. The scent changed from bored to intrigued, if a little concerned.

Dean walked towards the front of the church and saw what he came for tucked away in a corner: the confessional booth, the wood somehow darker than the rest.

The door was open and the other was not, so Dean went in and closed the door behind him.

Sitting down on one of those red, threadbare pillows atop more dark wood, Dean looked to his right and through the lattice window frame. He could just make out the mosaic of a white face and grey beard through it. Up close, he could detect a clean, honest scent coming from the man, which calmed Dean down a little. He knew that it must be part of the guy’s training, scent therapy or some shit.

“Hello Father,” Dean said in a small voice.

“Hello, Son. What can I do for you this evening?”

Dean ran his hands down his face and cleared his throat. The wood squeaked underneath him. “Man, what a question. You know, I’ve never been to confession before. I have issues with your man upstairs, and I’ve always been tight-lipped when it comes to my… emotions, I guess.”  
  
“Many are,” the priest said. “But it’s healthy to take refuge in His house and speak to someone about the things that trouble you. I find that Alphas are the hardest to open up, but are the ones who come here most often. Many are afraid of being seen as weak.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a stupid Alpha thing, I know, but I hate talking about feelings and stuff, even to the people I’m closest too. Hell – er, sorry Father – _man_ , especially to the people I’m closest to. My mom, though, she was great, not like me. Could talk anything outta you and was real caring. Religious too, but she died when I was young and my dad was too bitter to deal with God, so we stopped coming to Church.” He took a deep breath. “I dunno how you’re supposed to start off these confession things and I guess I’ve fucked – I mean, fudged it up, but they always say in the movies, ‘Forgive me Father for I have sinned’. Is that right?”

The priest laughed. “Something like that. Sometimes I think people like saying it for the effect. Confessing your deepest secrets tends to draw out the dramatists in us.”

Dean hummed, flicking his eyes away from the lattice window. “Yeah, guess it does, Father. You know I sat in my car for ages, trying to work up the nerve to walk in before I ran in here like I was Usain Bolt or something? Pretty freakin’ dramatic. But I still came in, cos I need someone to talk to and it’s gotten to the point where I don’t even care about my pride no more, I just gotta get it out. And you know what, Father?” Dean sighed, leaning down to rest his head in his hands. “I have sinned. But I ain’t gonna ask for your forgiveness, because even though I hate myself for what I’m doing, I can’t stop. I think stopping would end me.”

He heard the priest shuffle in his seat, making the wood whine. After a few moments, the priest spoke. “What are you doing that makes you feel like you are sinning?”

This was it. The question, the reason why he was here in God’s house with guilt burning inside his chest like a forest fire, spreading fast and consuming everything.

“It’s more a question of who I’m hurting, Father.”

“Ah,” he said in a soft voice. “Please, continue.”

Dean’s eyes were starting to sting. “I met the love of my life in school seven years ago. Castiel Novak. Omega kid that’d moved to Kansas at the start of our final year. I grew up in a small town and there weren’t a huge bunch of us at school, so anyone new was really exciting. I’d heard about him but didn’t get to meet him until second period English. Then I saw him, and smelt him, and…” Dean trailed off, closing his eyes to bask in his memories.

“You ever reply a song over and over again, only to end up hating it after listening to it too much? He’s like this perfect song that I will always wanna hear again, will never get tired of. I finish listening to it, and when it starts up again, it's like I've never heard it before and I just fall in love with it again and again. I knew right then that he was the one for me. I remember how he looked, big blue ocean eyes all wide and looking right back at me, tanned skin and dark, messy hair that I wanted to run my fingers through. Prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. He smelt like apples and cinnamon and that scent you get just after it’s rained and God – whoops, I mean, wow, he smelt so good that I thought I was gonna die if I couldn’t have him. Complete infatuation at first sight. I’d always prided myself on not being your typical knot-head Alpha, but there I was, following him ‘round like a lost puppy, desperate for any scraps he’d give me. Wasn’t long after that when Cas told me he felt the same way, and we’ve stayed together since. We mated a few months after we got together, then I married him a couple years later. I love him more and more each day, Father. He’s my whole world.”

Dean stopped to breathe and the priest spoke. “Sounds like you’re living the dream. So what’s going on to make you think that you’re a bad person?”  
  
Dean sat up from his slouched position. “About a year and nine months ago, Cas started to feel real tired. He worked at our local library and I just thought that they were pushing him too hard, but then a few months after this all started he began sleeping through his alarms. Was too tired to get out of bed, to go to work. He used to go for daily runs, but I’d be lucky to get him to walk downstairs to the kitchen. Couldn’t lift books all day like he used to, and whereas before he loved talking to people about stuff they’d read, he couldn’t keep up with the conversations. Couldn’t read as his concentration was completely shot. He called it his brain fog. He’d fall asleep in my lap in the afternoons after feeling shattered all day. Lost interest in even watching documentaries, and he loves his documentaries. At first, I thought he was depressed. I felt like a failure – what Alpha lets their Omega get depressed?

“He’d been to see a few doctors, but by that point he was getting worse and I was so scared and desperate that I took him to the emergency room. Thought it might be cancer or something. They did loads of tests but they found zilch. We looked for a diagnosis for months and got nothing. Cas had to quit his job. Money wasn’t really an issue as I’d inherited a garage from my uncle who’d passed away, and I was doing well enough to support us both and then some, but Cas was so upset at not being able to work. It’s never bothered me either way. But then, eleven months after this whole thing started, he finally got diagnosed.”  
  
Dean wiped the tears on his cheeks away with the back of his hand. “Chronic fatigue syndrome. Causes persistent exhaustion and won’t go away no matter how many pills he takes. Apparently it can be triggered by infections, psychiatric problems or immune system issues. We think it was the last one, but CFS is such a weird illness that who knows what caused it. The worst part was that, aside from some therapy, there’s no cure. Your body just fails you until, or if, it decides to get better.”

He heard the priest sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that, Son.”

Dean nodded, his throat too tight to reply just then. He wait for a minute before he started again, and this time the priest would understand why he was here, why he needed to confess.

“I know what you must be thinking. That I’m feeling guilty that I can’t help my mate more, or that maybe I’ve started to resent him for being so weak, right?”

The priest hummed. “Perhaps I would be, if you hadn’t asked me that as a question. Now I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

Dean smirked, his lips stretching thin. “Yeah. You’re a good man, the thought probably never even crossed your mind. But I’ll tell you.”

Dean was perfectly still, watching dust motes swirl through the light that came from the little holes in the wall.

“I don’t want him to get better.”

Silence.

“I love that he needs me when he’s so weak. And I’ve done something that will only make him worse."

Silence.

"I hate myself so much I think if you cut me open I’d be all rotten inside.”

“Why don’t you want him to get better?” The priest’s voice didn’t even wavier, despite how distressed he smelt.

Dean’s stomach was roiling. “I’ve always been a caregiver,” he started. “My mom died in a house fire when I was four. My dad handed me my baby brother, Sammy, and told me to run. He stayed behind to try and rescue her, but the smoke had already destroyed her lungs before it got to the rest of her. My dad was never the same after that, and he was never there. I raised my brother and myself, and when I was thirteen, my dad died of liver disease. Pickled it good n’ proper. Because he was still an alcoholic when he was diagnosed, he wasn’t allowed to be put on the waiting list for a transplant. But I don’t think he’d have wanted to anyway. I think he was grateful that it was gonna be over.

“We went to live with my surrogate uncle, Bobby, who gave me the garage when he died. I was already with Cas at that point, but after Bobby died and Sam left for college, all I had was Cas. I love him so much and I was terrified of him leaving me. He’s so smart, Father, he could go to any college he wants, but he just stayed behind in the backwards dump we live in to be with me. He’s so beautiful that he could have his pick of Alphas, yet he sticks by my side. I can’t seem to keep the people I love, Father. So how can I keep him when I don't deserve him?” Dean laughed with no trace of humour in it. “Looks like I got my wish. Cas can’t even make it through a film without falling asleep on me now. I’m keeping him through his own weakness. But it gets worse.”

The light shining through the lattice was getting a little dimmer. He needed to hurry this up.

“We’d been talking about having a family before Cas got ill. I know we’re young, but we had this dream of having a house full of kids, so we thought we better start early. I was gonna build extensions, make more rooms for our kids as they came. To have those dreams, only for your mate to get seriously ill, was such a blow. So Cas had stayed on his meds to keep heats at bay, and the doctor advised us from trying for kids for a couple of years or until Cas was feeling better. The doctor said that a heat might make him worse. But I couldn’t wait that long to have a child with Cas. I wanted a baby just to make sure that he would always be a part of me. And ain’t that fucked up? Jesus – I mean, ah, fuck it. What I’ve done is so much worse than swearing in His house, I’m sure that’s the least of His worries. Anyway.”

This was the hardest part of the story. Dean was full-on crying at this point.

“Six months ago, I managed to get a supply of sugar pills from a friend who works in a props department. I always give Cas his meds in the mornings before I go to work, so it was easy for him to not notice anything. A month later, his heat kicked in. He was so weak, Father,” he sobbed. “It only lasted two days, but he was on bed rest for a few weeks after. Long enough to start really paying attention to his body, and specifically to his morning sickness.”

Dean sniffed and tried to get a hold of himself. “He took a test and then we knew. He was pregnant. I got what I wanted. The pregnancy leaves him so tired that I’m waiting on him hand and foot. I even drive home to spend my lunches with him, and because I own the place sometimes I don’t even have to go in. I can spend whole days with just him and me, and I love it.”

Dean smiled, his middle finger drawing circles on his jeans. “He’s showing now, he has this proper bump and every time I see it I just wanna hold him. I never want to let this version of him go, and I know I gotta if I ever wanna deserve my family. But I just don’t wanna let this go right now, and I don’t know how to not want it. I think I’m going to hell, Father, and I won’t even care. I deserve it.”

Dean could scent the shock on the priest. He wanted to run away and never come back. Why did he think this was a good idea?

“It’s… it’s only natural to want to feel needed. I cannot begin to imagine what it was like losing your mother at such a young age in such a devastating way, and how that would affect you growing up. You seem smart enough to understand the reasons behind your actions, and you recognise that what you have done to your mate is wrong, but I am not here to pass judgement. Only He can do that. But I think that He sees how strongly you love those closest to you, and I think there is still time for redemption. You can fix this.”

“How?” Dean cried. “How can I fix this mess when I don’t want him to get better?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” the priest said gently. “You’ve made the first step by coming here and speaking with me, but there are some things that the church cannot heal. I think you should seek out a professional, someone to talk with. I know you say you love taking care of him, but you place a huge responsibility on your shoulders being not only a caregiver but the sole breadwinner too. You cannot let this darkness weigh you down. Above all else, you must think of your child, your flesh and bone.”

“I know,” Dean whispered. “I don’t wanna let my kid down, Man. I can’t turn into my father, but at least I was conceived consensually, right? Christ, what have I done?”

“You know,” the priest started, “Your journey to redemption starts with yourself, and my advice would be to stop being so self-depreciating. Your negativity only fuels your self-hate, and your fears. I’m not trying to justify your actions, not by a long shot, however you need to love yourself in order to be there for your mate and child.

“Your fears will overshadow your love for everyone you hold dear if you do not control them. To quote John, ‘There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.’. John does not want you to be paralyzed by fear of judgement. He teaches us that you cannot give your love to someone fully while you are fearful, and I think that you are fearful of your mate. Perhaps you fear that he will leave you, because he has grown bored or because he has found out what you did. Perhaps you’re more scared of him leaving you in more permanent ways. Either way, you need to address your fears. And you have started that journey just by making the decision to be here this evening.”

Dean felt numb. Nobody had ever been this direct with him before.

“I know you’re right, Father. Fear is gonna drive me all the way to the nut house if I keep on going the way I am. I need to figure out a way to stop. I think I need to see someone, you're right.”

“That’s very good to hear, Son. You sound like a good man, I would hate for you to stray into the devil’s path.”

“You and me both, Father. Thank you for listening and for giving me the kick up the ass I needed. I’m so sorry for who I am and how I feel. I’m so ashamed.”

“No need to thank me, and if you are feeling shame for your actions, then you know what you need to do. But I am curious, I no not recognise your scent from the town. You’ve travelled far to come here, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. I came out here for a job. Some couple managed to get their hands on these amazing British cars from the 40s and 50s, and they wanna do them up to rent out for weddings, proms, all that stuff. They want me and my team to do the restoration work, paint them all these douchey pastel shades, but that's their choice. I came out to check on the cars and strike a deal. It went pretty well, and I’m happy. But that was the easy part. Now we’ve gotta get them back to my place, which is about an hour and a half’s drive from here, and two hours from theirs. This is why I need to get back home soon, I’ve left Cas alone since this morning. I never leave him alone for this long.”

“Maybe your absence would have done him some good, even if he doesn’t know it,” the priest said thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He rubbed his hand over his chest before standing up, the wood groaning as he did. “You’re probably right, Father.”

 

***

 

Dean arrived at the house at 9:41 to find Cas asleep on the couch. The light from the TV lit up the front of his body white. His blanket had slipped and his red shirt had ridden up to show his stomach. It looked smooth and perfectly round, like a bleached hill.

Even without the glare from the TV, Cas was no longer the tanned boy he used to be. Now he was pale, a flower trying to grow in the shade.

Biting back tears, Dean dropped his bags and walked over towards the couch. He took his jacket, shirt and trousers off, leaving him in just his shorts and wife beater. He crouched down beside Cas and let his scent wash over him, sweeter now he was pregnant. It made Dean feel relieved, elated and terrified.

He let one hand up to start stroking Cas’s bare side. He was cool to the touch.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Dean said, a sappy smile on his face as he watched Cas blink into awareness. His sleepy blue gaze settled on Dean before Cas gave him a little smile back.  
  
“Hello, Dean.” He frowned. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.” He buried his face in the crook of his neck and closed his eyes, his hand moving down to caress the bump.

He was home.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I left the shop just after lunch, but I was out longer than I expected. How you feeling, Baby?”

 _I’m so sorry for putting you through this._  
  
“Sleepy, but that’s nothing new I suppose. You smell sad. Why do you smell sad? Did the meeting not go well?”

“Nah, nothing like that Cas. I’m just in one of my moods, that’s all.”

“You’ve been in one of your moods for a while, Dean. You always smell sad, and guilty.”

“Come on, Sweetheart. Tell me something good. How’s our bump?”

_I scared that I won’t love our child half as much as I love you._

“Bump’s been fine, Dean. Still feels like there’s lots of butterflies trapped inside my stomach, but that’s a good sign. I’m…”

“What, Baby?” Dean said, pulling away from Cas’s neck to look at him. 

Cas looked down. “The baby’s getting bigger Dean. I love our child so much and I couldn’t imagine not being pregnant now, but I’m worried that I will be too weak to be a good father. I can’t even be a proper mate to you – the way you smell... What if I never get better? What if I’ll never be able to play with him or her, or have to miss out on going to their school plays, or –”

“Cas,” Dean said softly, taking his face in his hands. “You care so much, and you will be an amazing dad, I promise. This won’t last forever, and you will get better. And what on Earth do you mean, not a proper mate for me? I will love you just as much when you are better as I do now when you’re not feeling well. I love our baby too, and I know that we can make it work. Screw easy, who wants to do things normally? That ain’t the Winchester way, even if the Winchesters are easy to screw.”

Cas giggled, and Dean couldn’t help but smile.

_Every time you get a little bit stronger, I become more of a coward._

“I missed you today. I’ve become quite dependent on your pep talks to keep me going.”

Dean smiled, but it was watery. He blinked fast to hide his tears. “Yeah, well, can’t have me stinking up the place all the time, Cas! You must have gotten so much done today without me here hovering over you like a mother hen.”

“You never stink up the place. You smell like you and oil, which is pretty much what this house smells like anyway.”

Dean laughed. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

“I do. I know. And I did get some stuff done.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I got a lot of writing done. I’m almost a quarter of the way through this novel. Then I took a break and went into the garden, pulled out a few weeds. Then I had a nap, did some cleaning, made dinner. Sat on the couch and fell asleep. That is all I have done today.”

_The priest was right. I do need to be away from you more. You need to find yourself again._

“That’s great, Sweetheart! You did loads today. And I can’t wait to read this book. You know, you could always just let me read what you’ve written already,” he teased.

“No!” Cas said, much more alert now. “I can’t let you read it until I’m at least editing through the third draft!” 

“Okay J.K. Rowling, I’ll wait.” He ran his hand from Cas’s side and over his hip to palm his ass. “But I gotta say, right now I’m much more interested in reading your body.”

Cas was silent for a moment before erupting into laughter. The sound was so beautiful that Dean had to join in.

_You’re the writer and the reader Cas, and you haven’t paid attention to what I'm saying to you between the lines._

“Oh my lord, was that your idea of flirting?”

_Maybe you know. Maybe you don’t wanna go prodding around because you know exactly what I’ve done to you._

“Did it work?”

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, signalling to be picked up. Dean wrapped one arm around his back and the other underneath his thighs before lifting him off the couch.

_Maybe you’re scared of me leaving you too._

“Yes. I’m a Winchester, I’m an easy screw, remember?”

 

***

 

Dean placed Cas gently on the bed and left him to get undressed while he went to freshen up in the bathroom.

Hours of being out in the hot sun hadn’t made Dean sweat nearly as much as sitting in that confession booth did, but he didn’t want to think about that right now or Cas would smell him and get upset.

After everything, Cas didn’t need to deal with Dean’s shit.

Dean had the quickest shower of his life before towel drying on the spot. He was already getting hard, imagining Cas all pliant underneath him, just taking it as Dean fucked into him, breathing out heavy moans at every thrust, letting Dean run his hands all over him. He dried himself faster.

After he was finished, he stopped himself from throwing the towel into their laundry hamper. He looked closely at the fabric.

Cas had brought this towel with him from his childhood home when they’d moved here. It was once a pure white, fluffy towel, but after years of use from both him and Cas it was now a thin, grey thing that was hardly worth being called a towel. Bunching the material between his hands, Dean left the bathroom to find Cas.

“Hey Baby, this towel of yours is looking real gross, let’s go out this weekend and get new ones – blue ones, with a high thread count, and –”

Cas was sleeping on his side under the covers.

Dean let the towel drop from his hands, turned off the light, then slipped in beside him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into the corner of Cas’s mouth before kissing against his unresponsive lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this turned out to be a lot darker and sadder than I expected. I've been writing other, happier fics, but I had this idea in my head and it wouldn't go away so I had to get it out. I have a thing for writing troubled Dean. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it x


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